


let me be your nights

by acidicshortcake



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Clothed Sex, F!Sandalphon, F/F, First Time, Kinda, Rule 63, Touching Over Clothes, Vaginal Fingering, clueless primal things, vaguely referenced use of light aphrodisiacs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25952143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acidicshortcake/pseuds/acidicshortcake
Summary: Djeeta comes up with a bonafide way to help Sandalphon sleep at night. Sandalphon isn't sure about any of it.
Relationships: Djeeta/Sandalphon (Granblue Fantasy)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21
Collections: Rule 63 Exchange 2020





	let me be your nights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skysedge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skysedge/gifts).



_ "I want to help you," Djeeta said, each word laced with quiet conviction. "Let me." _

That'd been nearly an hour ago, Sandalphon thinks, though time itself has always been a strange concept in her mind. Since those words had been spoken into the breezy air of the night, Sandalphon has lost track of thought; the 'medicine' the captain had insisted on giving her has only left her body strangely hot, teetering on vaguely uncomfortable, and Djeeta herself has completely removed any concept of separation from between their bodies, leaving Sandalphon feeling almost trapped in her own bed. 

"And this is supposed to help how?" She asks with a click of her tongue, ignoring the faint, breathy quality of her voice. When she'd asked about the medicine before, she'd gotten a presumably reassuring answer of  _ it's meant to relax you _ , and Djeeta hadn't gone into specifics. Sandalphon expects the same would come of asking again. "All you've done is make it worse." 

How something like this was meant to help with her nightmares—of which Djeeta should have had no inclination of to begin with, Sandalphon thinks, but Djeeta always has some way of getting involved with things she shouldn't—is beyond Sandalphon. But it's always so hard to deny the captain when she has that particular sparkle in her eyes, the one that renders resistance near futile. Even now, Djeeta exudes an air of absolute confidence as she curls closer to Sandalphon's body, her once polite hands now tracing down Sandalphon's stomach before settling on her thigh. 

"It's alright," she reassures without hesitation as she shifts in her place, her motions taking on a more aggressive feel, as if Sandalphon's state has reached some threshold that she'd been waiting for. "I'm only just starting, after all. Trust me—it'll help." 

Sandalphon's eyes narrow in disbelief, but she doesn't protest as Djeeta thumbs circles along her inner thigh, the friction over dark tights sending strange signals through to Sandalphon's nerves; she can't fight the way she shudders under it, and it seems to be exactly what Djeeta's after, with how she continues the touch, slowly inching higher just as soon as Sandalphon starts sinking into the admittedly calming feeling of it. It's a pattern, Sandalphon realizes distantly, one that has a destination in mind but will only reach it once the tension starts to leave Sandalphon's body. An interesting approach, she must admit. Then again, the captain was always good at creating nonsensical plots to reach her goals... she isn't sure if she should be annoyed or impressed by it. 

It works, though, and more minutes slip through Sandalphon's fingers like sand as Djeeta continues to massage her. Had she never noticed the tenseness of her own muscles? Perhaps. It's nothing new, after all. But more than that is the focus that Djeeta forces into those deft fingertips, each motion pointed enough that it's all Sandalphon can do but to follow them herself, giving her thoughts over to the constant circular pattern and pressure. It's when Djeeta's touch reaches a different place that Sandalphon's thoughts jolt to alertness once more, though still not as sharp as she would've liked. 

"You... what are you—?"

"Let me," Djeeta pleas softly. It's no question and yet it asks for permission all the same, and Sandalphon finds herself pausing for a few moments before sighing as she sinks back against her pillow, closing her eyes and huffing out a sigh.

"Do what you want."

With the permission granted, those fingertips become light, ghost-like strokes over her tights and along her center, snug in the apex of her thighs. The sensation is strange; it doesn't quite make sense in Sandalphon's head. What's the point of something like this? If she had any interest in eliciting such an odd feeling, couldn't she have done so herself? 

It's not that simple, she realizes in slow-moving waves, as though Djeeta were a steady ocean tide against Sandalphon's shore. It's gradual, but Djeeta's touch becomes something more—something that leaves Sandalphon squirming as she tries to control the way her breaths seem to grow more weighted. The heat that had stirred under her skin seems to all but spread, reaching towards Djeeta's fingers, craving, and Sandalphon can do nothing but blink as she tries to process  _ why _ . 

"What... what are you doing?" She asks, wary curiousity in her half-lidded eyes as she studies Djeeta, who only smiles as she looks back.

"I'm giving you something nicer to think about," she explains, her touch never faltering. Her other hand draws itself to Sandalphon's side, climbing the length of her until reaching a covered breast. "Does it feel good, Sandalphon?"

It does; Sandalphon can't deny that. Whatever it is, it feels  _ good _ , and it does exactly as Djeeta says, making it hard for Sandalphon to think of anything else. Sandalphon hums noncommittally in response as she closes her eyes, giving all the answer Djeeta doesn't need without words as her hips shift, legs spreading just slightly as if to allow Djeeta more room. The pressure increases from that of a faint brush to something more solid; it must be something worthwhile, Sandalphon thinks as she catches the way Djeeta's own breathing picks up, as if doing this felt just as pleasant as it does to Sandalphon herself. It says little for how intently Djeeta kneads and caresses her chest, too, occupying Sandalphon's thoughts as though it were the easiest thing in the world. 

"Can I kiss you?" Djeeta asks, breaking Sandalphon out of an unintentional reverie, and for a moment, Sandalphon remembers a time far away from this one. A time when a similar urge had come across her mind for a different person under a different circumstance, before she'd crushed that desire and buried it deep, shameful thing that it was in the face of Lucifer. But this isn't Lucifer, this is Djeeta—and Djeeta's far, far different. 

Almost shrugging, as though something so minor would affect her at all—as though she can't so clearly remember that moment back then, the way Lucifer's lips would always smile so kindly at her—Sandalphon mumbles once again, "Do what you want," and hopes that the twinge of eager melancholy doesn't slip into her words. 

Djeeta is on her in a heartbeat; Sandalphon's eyes widen at the suddenness, but the surprise soon melts under the efforts of a hungry yet tamed mouth. Their lips come together and the feeling is strange, but not unpleasant; it takes Sandalphon a few moments to catch onto what she's meant to do but she does, moving along with Djeeta's languid yet intense rhythm almost clumsily. Djeeta all but melts into her and Sandalphon doesn't know which part of her she should be paying attention to: the growing fire that throbs between her legs, following Djeeta's fingers, the warmth spreading from her chest as Djeeta gently rolls a hardened nipple against her palm, the friction between cloth making Sandalphon fight the urge to writhe, or the heat of Djeeta's mouth as her takes Sandalphon's lips between hers before prying them open with her tongue, exploring her as if trying to taste. It's overwhelming in a way that Sandalphon fights to keep up with; oddly, she doesn't mind it, the combination of it all coalescing into one giant molten feeling that claims Sandalphon from head to toe.

When Djeeta pulls away she's breathless, lips glistening faintly with their shared saliva as she looks at Sandalphon. She mustn't look so different herself, Sandalphon thinks, but it's hard to pay attention to her own appearance when Djeeta gives her breast a squeeze, drawing out a poorly smothered sound from Sandalphon's throat. The ache between her thighs grows harder and harder to ignore; it takes Sandalphon longer than she thinks it should've to realize how her tights have grown damp, clinging to her skin. 

Before she can ask (in spite of not having the words to do so), Djeeta pulls her fingers away—regrettably, Sandalphon realizes, missing the contact instantly—and holds them up as if to show the slick that clings to them. Sandalphon breathes through parted lips, looking to the captain for explanation. Djeeta catches on.

"You're enjoying this," Djeeta says. Her smile doesn't quite match the desire that seems ablaze in her eyes. "That's what it means, Sandalphon. That it feels good." 

It's true, but hearing it drives some of that blossoming heat to Sandalphon's face, and she can't help but turn away as if to bury the tendrils of shame away into the linen. "Nonsense," she mumbles without much fight in her words. She can hear Djeeta giggle.

"You don't have to be stubborn. It's what I came here for, after all."

To make her feel good, huh? Sandalphon supposes there was something of that intention in her original approach, in hindsight. Intrigue sprawls through her thoughts; maybe she's just weak to the captain's schemes by this point. 

"I'll leave it to you, then." 

When she mumbles her words, they're hardly audible, but she knows Djeeta can hear her nonetheless. She kisses her again, but pivot away afterwards, trailing along her jaw, descending down to her throat. Those fingers return to her lower half, but not quite in the way Sandalphon expects; they slip under the hem of her tights and underclothes to meet skin directly, and something weighted finds itself in the back of Sandalphon's throat as she helplessly swallows down. 

It's such a different sensation, one that feels even better than before—a phenomenon that Sandalphon hadn't considered possible. Djeeta explores her folds carefully, spreading flesh and teasing the entrance that all but twitches as Sandalphon gasps. Each place that feels mind-numbingly pleasant, Djeeta  _ knows _ , as if following some sort of map that Sandalphon can't see but can  _ feel _ , as she grows hotter and hotter with each ticking second. 

And then Djeeta eases a finger inside of her, and Sandalphon loses all remaining trains of thought. 

"I can't help it," Djeeta pants, as if the rhythmic way she thrusts her finger inside of Sandalphon is just as heady for her. She leans closer to bring her lips to the curve of Sandalphon's neck once more, teeth nipping at skin as she continues, "I want to be selfish—I want part of you to myself. I can't have your days, but at least... at least when your nights are troubled, can I—" 

What nonsense, Sandalphon wants to say, through her tongue finds itself heavy and uncoordinated as something tight coils low within her, a strange pressure stemming from Djeeta's finger, only growing when a second is added alongside it. What day is even so much of a 'day' without Djeeta's bright and sun-like smile to grace it? It's all nonsense—Djeeta's words don't make sense, Sandalphon thinks, but it's hard to think at all through the thick molasses that fills her head. 

Her breath comes out heated and heavy; her hips rock up against Djeeta's fingers, chasing an edge to something unfamiliar. But she can't stop herself, and she can't stop the desperate-sounding plea that slips from her lips, unfiltered. 

"Djeeta—don't stop."

Djeeta's name is just as foreign on her tongue as the feeling that Djeeta's heightened efforts push her towards, but Sandalphon can't seem to mind it. In the moment, nothing else matters but the twist and curl of Djeeta's fingers, the feeling that builds around them. Her mind's going blank but Sandalphon doesn't care; when the butt of Djeeta's palm presses against her, Sandalphon's back arches and she cries out, and yet she can't even hear her own voice as the pleasure crashes into her, sweeping everything else away as if caught in a broken dam. 

Her ears are ringing when she finds herself again only moments later, though it'd felt more like hours. Her heart is a storm in her chest, one that echoes down to the way she clenches and pulses around Djeeta's slowed fingers. Djeeta says something, but her words feel like water, not quite sinking in as Sandalphon eases down from her high. 

The first coherent thought that crosses Sandalphon's mind is how pleasantly empty her thoughts are at all, like all that's haunted her is far away. She feels herself sink into the mattress as she breathes in deeply, only half-aware of the slight curl of a smile on her lips. 

It worked, somehow, just like every other nonsensical plan Djeeta's ever come up with. But, Sandalphon supposes as Djeeta leans over her once more to bring their lips together, this time, Sandalphon can't bring herself to mind so much. 

(When she sleeps she dreams of a girl like sunshine, whose kisses taste like selfishly selfless promises and nothing like coffee; she dreams of strong fingers gently working inside of her, until the heat threatens to engulf her entirely. The only weight on her chest is Djeeta herself, snoring into the pillow of Sandalphon's breasts, and the primarch has never felt more at ease.) 


End file.
